Blood, Sand and Tears Part V

[Silktie]

Warning: Language



Many men would take the death-sentence without a whimper, to escape the life-sentence which fate carries in her other hand.
- T.E. Lawrence


Tuesday 5 July
HMS Liverpool

Yushua allowed Harry to steer him into the smaller room without protest. He was in a daze, and sank down onto the chair without really noticing anything around him. The door closed with a firm thud, and with it any hope he’d harboured disappeared. As his tormentor sat down across from him, memories he’d suppressed for years surged to the forefront, violently reminding him of his capitulation all those years ago. When he lifted his head to look at the Englishman, his face was already covered in sweat, and his eyes were wide with fear.

Harry noted all this, and started speaking in English. His tone was light and somewhat curious. Ruth translated from her seat in the corner, and he registered subconsciously that her tone of voice matched his perfectly. It was a seamless performance, and he was impressed, despite being fully aware of her abilities already.
“What did you think of the proposal of our Foreign Secretary?”
Yushua eyed him with desperation, and Harry could see he was trying to figure out what Harry wanted and to pre-empt him.
The agent licked his suddenly dry lips. “It is a wise proposition,” he lied through his teeth. “I think I can sell it to my Leader.”
Harry regarded him incredulously. “Really? That surprises me. Is the eminent Brother Leader so weak-willed, that he will listen to the proposals of the Western devil?” His voice had acquired a mocking note, once again perfectly imitated by Ruth. Not once had Yushua looked at her; his full attention was focussed on the man in front of him, the man he knew held his fate in his pale hands.

The agent wiped some of the sweat from his brow as he tried to buy time, and managed a smidgen of bravado. “But that is why you’re here, isn’t it?” he challenged. “You want to coerce me into doing your Foreign Secretary’s bidding.”
“And you thought by lying to me, you could get out of it?” Harry cocked his head. “Come on, Yushua, I know when you’re lying, remember?”
Yushua’s eyes darted around the room, but there was nothing to focus on, nothing to break the spell the dark gaze of his opponent was casting over him.
“Please,” he implored. “You know he won’t listen to me. If you ask me to go there and tell my Leader these things he will kill me. You will sign my death warrant!”
Harry didn’t bat an eye. “Well, that would be regrettable, but it’s not a deal breaker. Your life only has value in so much as you are of use to me.”
He let the thought fester for a moment or two.
“Tell me,” he continued conversationally, “what was it like living a hero’s life all these years? Enjoyed the perks that came with it, did you?”

Yushua closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He mumbled softly, but Harry heard the word ‘Allah’ and sprang to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor. He slammed a hand down on the table with a loud crack. “Allah can’t help you now! Your fate is firmly in my hands.” He leaned across the table menacingly. “What does Allah think about betrayal, hmm, Yushua? Not to mention fucking an underage non-Muslim girl, and then abandoning her to raise your bastard by herself!”
The agent said nothing, but the way he flinched told Harry that Ruth had not diluted any of his crudeness in translation. The man shrank into himself with a stricken look, so Harry backed off. He walked around the room for a bit, before coming back to the table and unhurriedly picking up his chair. Once he was seated again, he continued.
“Perhaps we can come to an agreement,” he suggested helpfully. “If you can offer me something that would demonstrate your value to us, I can speak to my Foreign Secretary, persuade her that you are better used for other purposes.”
Yushua lifted his head with a hopeless expression. “You want me to betray my people. Again,” he said bitterly.
Harry took his time before answering. “No. I want you to help me save mine.”

Yushua had not expected that. “What are you talking about?”
Harry treaded carefully. He had no information, only suspicions, but deemed that it was a gamble worth taking. “Your Leader is planning retaliatory terror attacks in Britain. I want the details of those plans.”
Surprise flickered briefly over Yushua’s face, but Harry saw it.
“I know nothing about that,” the Libyan hedged.
“Again with the lies,” Harry sighed. “Don’t lie, Yushua. It will only make me angry.” The calmness of the statement made it all the more terrifying.
Harry continued: “You are high up in the Intelligence structures. You are trusted by Gaddafi. You know.”
There was a sudden spark of defiance in Yushua’s eyes. “So what if it’s true? It’s no less than you deserve for killing innocent Libyans with your bombs.”
Harry’s face hardened. He stood abruptly, walked around the table and leaned on it right next to Yushua. He could smell the man’s fear. “You’re going to claim the moral high ground? Seriously? Because let’s think for a moment why you’re in this precarious situation in the first place. You carried out your Leader’s plans to blow up a civilian plane full of innocent people. We, at least, kill the innocent in error. You lot do so by design.”

Silence descended on the room, and the only sound was Yushua’s harsh breathing, and his sweat dripping onto the table. Harry could feel his own sweat run down his spine, and he longed for a breath of fresh air, and to be away from this oppressive room stale with body odour. But not yet. He was close, he could sense it. If he played the last card he held correctly, he would get what he wanted from his agent. Moving around the table back to his chair, he spoke more softly.
“Look at me, Yusif.”
The use of his real name once again threw the other man off-balance, and he lifted his gaze back to Harry’s almost involuntarily.
“I believe that you don’t condone the use of violence against innocents. That’s why you are so angry about the bombs falling on your cities. And that’s why you helped us catch the man who blew up that plane all those years ago. You are a good man. I’m asking you to do the right thing once again. If not for the undeserving infidels-” he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and retrieved the photographs from it, and spread them out on the table, “-then for your own flesh and blood.”
The colour drained from Yushua’s face as he stared at the images. Harry continued mercilessly. “Your daughter and her mother live in London, Yusif. Who’s to say they won’t be among the innocents killed in these retaliation attacks?”


The Libyan’s eyes were riveted on the photographs. A number of emotions played across his face: belligerence, shame, pride, love and finally wonder. He reached out with a shaking hand and slowly drew a photograph of his daughter, now a grown woman, to him. Harry daren’t look around, but irrationally believed that he could feel Ruth’s gaze burning reproachfully into his back. If the agent didn’t fold, he would have to play his final card, the one he truly did not want to play. He’d have to threaten the daughter directly.

After an eternity Yushua looked up, defeat in his expression, and Harry knew that he had won. “I don’t know all the details. I know that five men have left on a ship, bound for England, and that there are five high profile targets identified.”
His capitulation released the tension permeating the room fractionally. Harry was careful not to show any reaction. Now that he had his man where he wanted him, he could not afford to relax his hold until he had squeezed every last drop of information from him.
“What ship?” he asked, all business.
“I don’t know.”
“The identities of the men?”
Yushua shook his head.
“At the very least you must know what the targets are,” Harry pressed, his voice coloured by disbelief.
“Please,” the agent pleaded, “I’m not lying. I didn’t want to know the details.” It was an oblique admission that Harry was right about Yushua’s aversion to such actions.
The spook believed him. He pondered all the options, and felt his own hope that they wouldn’t have to go into Tripoli fade away. He stared at the Libyan unblinkingly.
“But you can find out.”

* * *

Ruth leant against the railing, lifting her face to the gentle breeze that stirred across the ocean. It was late night, and the stars were out in force. They carpeted the heavens above her, their brilliance undiminished in the absence of other sources of light. She felt isolated, drifting in the middle of the Mediterranean, with no land or other ships in sight. It was cool and refreshing out on deck, where the breeze alleviated the last heat of the day still lingering in the air. The gentle movement of the ship beneath her feet was gradually soothing her tumultuous thoughts. She kept reliving the developments of the last few hours, and Harry’s ruthless interrogation of his agent. Even though he never touched the man, it had been a chilling performance and a stark reminder what he was capable of. But that wasn’t what disturbed her most. It was her own reaction, or lack of it, towards that performance that gave her pause. She should be appalled at the cold-blooded dismantling of another human being that she had witnessed, but instead she felt only admiration and a sense of accomplishment at her own role in the events. And that scared her.

She had avoided Harry ever since, confused by her emotions and unsure how to explain her feelings to him. It was unfair; she had seen the pained resignation on his face when she’d walked out on him after Yushua’s departure, and knew that he thought she despised him for what he’d done. She just didn’t know what to say. The clichéd ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ was hardly going to be convincing. A shape materialised out of the dark and took up station on her left, and she turned her head, expecting it to be Harry, but it was not.
“It’s nights like these that make me love my job,” Robert stated conversationally.
Ruth managed to conjure up a polite smile in response, but it was half-hearted. She didn’t feel like company, and wasn’t about to encourage a long conversation.
The Commander continued, unperturbed. “I just left Harry in his room. Brooding, with what’s left of my Ardbeg for company.”
When she didn’t show any reaction, he turned towards her. “Harry’s talent for interrogation came to the fore when we were in Northern Ireland together. I could never understand how a man with his sure moral sense could be so good at something so ugly. It still baffles me to this day. Most other interrogators I have come to know have a mean streak in them, which the job allows them to satisfy. But I don’t think Harry does.”
He was trying to provoke her into a response, and it worked.

“No,” Ruth agreed after a moment’s silence, unable not to defend Harry. “He’s just very good at switching off his emotions.”
She lifted her head defiantly. “I don’t judge him for doing his job, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Robert watched her steadily. “Then why does he think that you do?”
She turned her head away. “It’s complicated. Between us,” she explained rather ineloquently.
He smirked. “When isn’t it, where men and women are concerned?” Pushing himself upright, he studied her for a moment. “But in the end, complications are overcome by those who are brave enough to confront them. And tomorrow, the two of you are going to infiltrate a war zone and face untold dangers,” he said meaningfully.
After letting his words sink in, he added, “Goodnight, Ruth,” and ambled away, leaving her to stare after him wordlessly.
She stood motionless for many minutes more, thinking about what he’d said, and about the history between her and Harry. Eventually her thoughts came to the previous night, and his confessions and uncertainties, and how good it had felt to be held closely against him all night, knowing that her presence meant so much to him. How, in the end, it made her happy to make him happy. She turned and walked off purposefully.

He opened the door to her knock, and regarded her with sadness and apprehension. All the way here she had contemplated what she would say to him, but her carefully composed phrases deserted her upon seeing the look on his face. She blurted out what was in her heart.
“I am so afraid that I’m losing all that is good about me to this job.”
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, to break through the defences he’d built up in anticipation of her disapproval. His eyes flooded with relief and concern, and he pulled her into his arms and closed the door. She burrowed into his solidity and he hugged her tightly, murmuring assurances into her hair.
“I won’t allow it to happen, Ruth. I swear.”
She held onto him, allowing him to anchor her, and let herself believe him.

* * *

Wednesday 6 July, midnight

A small group of people were gathered in the bowels of the ship, looking at a sleek, low-slung craft with a dull matt finish. Robert was in full Commander mode as he listened to the pilot of the craft, a young SAS soldier whose badge gave his surname as Benson, explain the procedure for landing people on the beach.
The commanding officer of the SAS contingent was also present, interjecting occasionally to clarify a statement or give additional information. The group was completed by Harry and Ruth, dressed in lightweight, neutrally coloured clothes suitable for tourists. If the young soldier tasked with landing them on the beach had reservations about the ability of his two passengers to pull it off, he kept it to himself. He had been drilled beforehand not to ask any questions, but it was not too difficult to figure out that the two people standing before him must be spooks.
“It won’t be a comfortable ride, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically. “We’ll be packed in there like sardines, lying almost flat on our backs.”
Harry nodded. “What about radar?” he asked Robert.
“We think their radar stations were taken out in the bombings, but even if they are still somehow operable, this craft is designed to be hard to pick up. I’ll take the Liverpool in as close as I can without waking the natives, and we’ll launch from there. You’re looking at about two hours in the landing craft, so we’ll time it to get you to shore shortly before daybreak.”
“Okay.” Harry turned to Ruth. “Do we have everything?”
She indicated the bag at her feet. “Camera, guide book, phrase book, dollars. We’ll look like proper tourists.”
“Good. Let’s get going, then, Commander,” Harry said, turning to Robert. The two friends looked at each other before Robert held out his hand. “Good hunting, Harry, Ruth.”
He shook both their hands before turning on his heel and leaving for the bridge.

Harry and Ruth’s eyes met, and held in a long, charged moment. His mouth quirked into a small, intimate smile. Ignoring the other men present, he held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
She smiled back, and placed her hand in his without hesitation. Their fingers laced together and she squeezed his hand.
“Let’s go.”

tbc

[beatrice4ruth]

I am starting to wonder whether you have witnessed an interrogation. We no longer see a cuddly Harry who loves Ruth beyond reason, but the implacable spymaster. It is a chilly performance both by Harry and Ruth. Harry still does not realize how complex Ruth is. He ought to know by now that they share the same convictions about the protection of the realm. She accepts his professionalism; she is afraid only of her dark side. By reaching out to Harry, she proves to him that she believes in his humanity. I admire Harry for allowing Ruth to observe his interrogation methods at the risk of losing her love. A lesser woman would have recoiled in horror. I still shudder at the 3.9 interrogation.

[pookster]

Amazing chapter. Harry's interrogation of Yushua was so chilling. And Ruth's own analysis of her reactions to it showing that she's a born spook but still not quite liking it. Loved the Robert cameo too. I' looking forward to the next part.

[Tea Lady]

Harry does get through some Ardbeg.

Two hours in a landing craft. Yikes! Hope Ruth has taken her Sea Leg tablets or it could get messy.

[A Cousin]

It's as if you took every single one of Harry's interrogation scenes in Spooks and distilled into the one scene. Nicely...erm...brutally (?) done, Silktie!

*geez* Commander Robert! Way to twist the knife of guilt into Ruth! With friends like that, no wonder Harry has been through so much Ardbeg....

[Sparky]

Yet another superb chapter, its getting better and better and is very much of the moment what with all the stuff that's come out about MI6 and the CIA working with different factions within Libya!

As always a fantastic episode and thanks to A Cousin I now firmally have the picture of Ciaran Hinds in my head as Robert

[0074]

Silktie, this is a truly excellent story. I love it. You write the characters with humour and pathos, and have a fabulous "eye" for realistic plots. Looking forward to seeing what drama Harry and Ruth will encounter in Tripoli.

Thanks

[thegrandtour]

Erm quite difficult to review after all those comments, you've said it already dear forumers!

Silktie, excellent chapter again. Harry's interrogation technic is second to none, as your sense to develop a plot and Harry and Ruth's "complicated" relationship.
I do really love Robert's (Ciaran Hinds ) part too,

In two words: brilliant job.

Thanks!

[Jax9010]

Great chapter! I hope you keep writing fan fics even though the series has ended.